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by JA Huss

  I huff out a breath. “I’m sorry, OK? And that last part doesn’t even make sense.”

  “No?” He huffs out his own breath. “Well, let me make it clear.” Something rattles behind me and then he lets go of my hair. I turn my head a little to try to get a better look at what he’s doing when he kneels down. But it’s no use. “This,” he says as he clamps something around my ankle, “is a spreader bar. To hold your legs”—he slaps the inside of my thigh to make me open wider—“open.”

  “So we’re back to your sexual domination?”

  He hesitates, like he’s thinking hard about that. A few seconds go by in silence as he attaches the other cuff to my ankle. “The girl I met in the bar a few months ago. You’re not her.”

  My heart, which was actually calming down, starts to pick up the pace again. Because I think Vaughn Asher might be done with me. I think Vaughn Asher might want one last kink before he throws me aside.

  “That Grace out on the beach was wild and confident. She talked back and had opinions. My Grace was funny and dirty.” He finishes up with the spreader bar and then stands, leaning over the couch alongside of me, and whispers in my ear. “You are not my Grace.”

  What’s that even mean? But I don’t want to ask. Because I’m afraid to hear the answer.

  “I owe you punishments, sweets. And I’m here to collect. So if you want me to stop—if you want this relationship… this marriage… this everything… to stop—just say the word, babe. And we’ll call it good and move on.”

  He’s breaking up with me. I close my eyes to stop the tears.

  “Stop? Or go?” he asks. “You choose, Grace. But I’m warning you. If you say go, you’ll get what you deserve.”

  Do I want to say stop?

  He walks off, not waiting for my answer, and for a few seconds I’m petrified that he took my silence as a no. But then I hear him in the kitchen pulling open a drawer. When he comes back I’m so relieved to have his hands on me again a tear slips out and rolls down my cheek.

  He lifts up my shirt, pulls it taut, and begins cutting it in half. I wiggle away out of fear before I can stop myself, but he shoves me back into position and continues until the two sides fall apart. He cuts my bra too. And then he cuts the fabric away from my body completely and tosses it aside.

  He moves on to my jeans, slipping the cold scissors inside my waistband and slitting it right down my ass until the denim opens up and exposes my skin, still stinging from the smacks, to the cool night air. The next snip destroys my panties.

  He rubs a hand down one cheek and then his palm comes down so hard, the smack echoes off the high ceilings in the living room.

  I don’t move this time.

  “That’s it, sweets, that’s what I want,” he whispers. His hand rubs the spot he smacked, soothing it. The cutting continues. The scissors slip between my legs and the cold metal shocks me for a moment, making me draw in a gasping breath of air.

  “Shhh,” he chastises me as he slits my pant legs open from thigh to ankle on each side. He tosses the ruined fabric aside once again and then takes a few steps back. “I’m gonna make your ass so red you won’t be able to sit tomorrow.”

  I start breathing faster. My chest does not have a lot of room since I’m still bent over the couch back, and it takes a lot of effort to draw in air.

  Vaughn grabs my hair and pulls me up. “Breathe, Grace. No hyperventilating on my time.”

  Asshole. I fight him a little to let him know I’m annoyed but he just laughs.

  He presses his mouth up to my ear and whispers, “I’m waiting.”

  “For what?” I growl back at him.

  “Go. Or stop.”

  His hand dips between my legs and strokes the slit of my pussy. I moan, I can’t help it. We’ve had plenty of sex lately. More and more as the weeks go by. But there’s not been any rough play since… well, the night I signed the NDA.

  “You like to submit, Grace. You know you do.”

  I take a deep breath and try to turn my head, but he yanks on my hair again.

  “You like this. And it has nothing to do with the past. You like this because I’m your fucking prince, remember? You like this because I’ll make you scream with pleasure.”

  He leans down in my ear. His breath comes slowly. Totally in control. “Grace,” he says softly. “You like this because you want to be controlled and fucked hard, but you know you’re safe with me. So…” He pulls my hair so hard this time, I squeeze my eyes closed and have to arch my back to try to relieve the tension. When I open my eyes, I’m looking straight up at his face.

  “I want what you owe me, sweets. I told you back on the beach I was adding them up. Your list is long. Your penance will be difficult. But…” He sweeps his fingers along my slit again and this time even I feel the wetness because it drips down my leg. One finger dips inside me and he chuckles. Because he knows I want this as much as he does. “But if you’re very good,” he continues, “you won’t care.” He whispers the last part, alternating between the cold, dominating man I want and the soft, tender man I need. “You won’t care because your screams will not be from the pain. They’ll be from the pleasure. So which is it, Mrs. Asher? Stop? Or go?”

  Chapter Ninety-Six - Vaughn

  #MomentsOfTruth

  SHE needs to trust me. Fuck, she trusted me more out on that beach than she does now. And I’m sick of it. I’ve done nothing but support her. I’ve been there for everything. I held her hand and made her feel loved and welcome.

  And maybe that was the wrong way to go. Because that’s what everyone else did the first time she came home. Maybe what my Grace needs is unwavering dominance.

  So that’s what I’m giving her tonight.

  She wants to waste her life away in bed feeling sad? Or mope around this house oblivious to the decay? I mean, holy fuck. Felicity was a pig. She made a mess just walking through a room. But eventually she picked up after herself.

  Grace has disappeared. I’m not sure if it was the injury, the kidnapping, or the baby that pushed her over, but that hardly matters now. She’s there. She’s crossed the line of sad and moved right into depressed.

  And I’m not gonna let this happen to us. I might not be able to make her get better, but I can make her choose. Either she wants us or she doesn’t.

  “I’m gonna ask you one more time, Grace. Say stop and we stop. You can go back to Denver and do whatever it is that will make you happy. Because clearly, I do not make you happy.

  “Or say go, and I take over from here on out. You submit to me and do as you’re told until I say otherwise. Because you have no idea what’s good for you right now, Grace. You’re in give-up mode. And for the record, I didn’t put myself through twenty-seven years of Hollywood bullshit to give up. I’m not a goddamned quitter.”

  She struggles hard against my hold, but I keep her pressed into the couch cushion. “I’m not a quitter, either. Your life is stupid.”

  I laugh. “So what? I’m the first to admit my life is stupid. I didn’t choose to be born to this family. It was my birthright.”

  “Your birthright is stupid too. You think you’ve had it hard, Vaughn? You have no idea what hard is.”

  “Boo-fucking-hoo. I do realize your tragedy trumps anything I can come up with. No, my life is not one long string of fear like yours, but it’s had its challenges.”

  “You don’t even know the meaning of the word survive.”

  “Apparently, neither do you.”

  “Fuck you. I’m here because I survived.”

  “You’re not here, Grace.” I lean down and pull her hair at the same time, making her head tilt back. “You’re still there, sweets.” She doesn’t say anything to that. But that’s her MO, right? Silence. “You refuse to go to therapy. You refuse to talk to people. You refuse to accept help. And whatever. That’s your choice. But marriage is a partnership, Grace. If you want to be married, then you owe me. So what’s it going to be? Stop or go?”

  “Go,” sh
e snarls. “If that will make you feel better, then just do it.”

  “It will,” I assure her. “It will.”

  She opens her mouth to spout off something sarcastic, but my hand comes down on her ass cheek so hard she jumps. “Holy fuck, Asher! What the—”

  I smack her again, five times in a row without stopping. Five hard, flat smacks across her bare ass.

  “Ow! That fucking hurts!”

  I kiss her neck and then turn my mouth to her ear and whisper, “It’s supposed to, Kinsella. I told you, you’re gonna cry...”

  “Why does this make you happy?” she asks. Her voice is already betraying her. She’s losing control very fast right now. “Why does hurting me make you happy?”

  “I don’t like hurting you, Grace. I told you back on the island that none of this is about violence.”

  “Well, it sure feels like violence to me.”

  “That’s because you’re unable or unwilling to give in. Did it ever occur to you to ask me what I wanted?”

  She stiffens but says nothing.

  “No.” I answer for her. “You have never once asked me what I want.”

  “So you’re punishing me for being a selfish cunt?”

  “No again. I’m punishing you for not trusting me.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “Why shouldn’t you trust me? I think that’s a far better question.”

  She stays silent again. Only this time I’m not going to answer for her. The negotiations are over. “I’m going to let go of your hair and you’re going to stay right where you are. Do you understand?”

  More silence.

  I smack her hard again and she whimpers, but stays put. “When I ask you a question, Grace, the polite thing to do is answer it. And if you don’t want to answer, then you get punished. I’m going to punish you and the only way this is not going to happen is if you tell me to stop.”

  “But if I don’t let you do this to me, then we’re over.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Then say no.”

  She sniffles before answering this time. “But I don’t want you to walk out. I don’t want you to leave.”

  “So you think you should be allowed to continue on with the way you’ve been acting?”

  “No, but—”

  “Tell me right now, Grace. If I let go of your hair will you stay where I put you?”

  “Yes,” she says into the cushion.

  “Ah. Finally you have to give in to something.” I let go of her hair and step away from her naked body. “Now I’d like to know how you want to do this. I’m going to spank you for all indiscretions, past and present. Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?” She turns her head a little so she can see me. Like she can’t believe I’m going there. But I am. I’m so fucking going there. “Grace? I asked you a question. Yes, what?”

  “Yes, Master,” she spits. She looks me in the eye for it too. So score one for Asher.

  I look away from her before I lose my nerve and instead look down at the bright red skin. Both cheeks are flaming. I hover my hand over them and feel the heat. “Wait here,” I tell her. “Don’t move.”

  I don’t wait for an answer, just walk down the hallway to our bedroom and then turn into the bathroom. Grace has stuff all over the counters. Just shit everywhere. I flip the light on and start looking at the various bottles. I choose the one that says it soothes chapped skin, and head back to the living room.

  Grace is right where I left her. Her eyes are even closed. “Don’t fall asleep on me, sweets.”

  She open her eyes and whispers, “Yes, Master.”

  I don’t like it. I hope she doesn’t think that’s what this is about. It’s not. I don’t want to crush her. I just need her to know I’m a man of my word. I told her when I knew her well enough I’d punish her for all her misbehaving. And even though I like the kind of misbehaving she did back on the beach, I’m less than thrilled about the way she’s been misbehaving since she came home.

  It needs to stop.

  I smack her ass one more time and she sucks in a gasp of air, but says nothing. “I know it hurts. You’re allowed to moan or cry.”

  “I’m not going to cry.”

  “OK.” I uncap the bottle of soothing lotion and drip it across the bright pink handprint left over from the last slap. This makes Grace sigh and relax. “You like that?”

  “Yes, Master,” she says obediently.

  I rub it in a little harder, squeezing the round globes of her ass. And after a few minutes of this seemingly innocuous rubbing, when she is good and relaxed, when she’s breathing deep and even, almost content, I give her five more quick, hard slaps to wake her back up.

  She shoots up off the back of the couch for this, but my hand is there on her back, gently pushing her down. “Be still,” I tell her softly.

  She relaxes again and my punishment repeats.

  “Goddammit!” she squeals. This time she doesn’t take my direction, and instead of relaxing, she struggles against me.

  “Tell me to stop if you want it to stop, Grace.”

  “No,” she says defiantly. “I’m not gonna tell you to stop so you can blame this on me. But I’m sure as fuck not going to let you hit me for no good reason!”

  “OK, that’s fair. How about I tell you why you’re being punished.”

  “That would be a good start,” she hisses up at me.

  I smack her hard again, this time across the back of her thighs. She squirms and twists, but the spreader bar prevents her from taking a necessary step to balance herself, and she falls right into my arms. “Don’t struggle, sweets. It’s a losing battle.” She growls out her protest, but since she can’t walk and her hands are bound, she is forced to lean into my chest.

  Her soft hot breath travels across my skin and brings my cock to life. “That last slap was for being sarcastic.”

  “And the others?” she asks, risking more punishment.

  “Those were owed to you from our fun first night on the beach. Satisfied?” I grab her by the elbows and lift so she can regain her balance, and then I scoop her up in my arms. Her legs are still spread open as I carry her around to the front side of the couch and take a seat. “For the rest of your punishment, you have two choices because I’d like to sit down and enjoy my view of your beautiful pussy. Would you like to bend over the coffee table or lie across my lap?”

  “Your lap, please.” She hesitates for a moment and then adds, ”Master,” to the end of her sentence.

  I urge her to flip over so her stomach is across my thighs and then I lean down and whisper, “I love you, Grace.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Don’t doubt me.”

  “Why do you want me to cry?”

  “Because you need to let it out.”

  “I did let it out. Back at the hospital.”

  “Grace, five minutes of tears is not crying. You refuse to give in to therapy, fine. I’m not going to insist on anything.”

  “But you insist that I cry here tonight. Because you’re hitting me.”

  “I’m spanking you, Grace. Something that turns you on. It’s erotic. It’s not about hurting you. And this is not about making you cry. You will cry because it’s natural.”

  She stills. Perhaps to think about this. “Do you want to know what I did in Colorado?”

  “No.”

  She stays silent for almost a minute after that answer. “Why not?”

  “Because if you wanted me to know, you’d have told me before I left for work.” I trace a fingertip down the backside of her thigh, into the soft cavity behind her knee—this makes her stifle a giggle—and then continue down her calf where I squeeze and knead the muscles there until she moans. “Feel good?”

  “Yes. So good.”

  I smack the back of her thigh. A quick downward motion, barely touching her skin, and then a retreat.

  It stings my hand so I know it sting
s her thigh worse. She wails a complaint, but I immediately slip my fingers between the open folds of her pussy and stroke her gently there. “Better?”

  She makes a sound that is halfway between a moan and a growl and I smile because she has no idea whether she should cry or come.

  But then she sniffles and I know I’m on the right track.

  My fingers leave the warmth of her pussy and trace a wet trail up her spine. She bucks a little, but tries her best to be still. “You’re perfect, Mrs. Asher. And if you only take one thing away from tonight, let it be this. The spankings are about trust.”

  She takes a breath like she wants to say something, but then she stops.

  “Tell me, Grace. If you have something to say, tell me.”

  “I’m not very good at this.”

  “Neither am I.”

  Her head turns and she relaxes. Her face pressed into the cushions of the couch. “That’s funny. You’re the one with all the experience.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve never done this with a woman I cared about before. It’s new for me too. Before you, Grace, this domination stuff was about sexual release and satisfaction.”

  She lifts her head from the cushions and tries to look at me. “And now?”

  “I told you. Trust. You don’t trust me. And to be quite honest, I don’t trust you either. I feel like you’re perpetually on the verge of walking out. I can’t live like this, Grace. I can’t. I need to know if you’re in or not.”

  “I’m your wife. I’m in.”

  “You’re my wife on paper, that’s it. I want you to be my wife, Grace.”

  “Will spanking me make me your wife?”

  “Do you hate it?”

  “No. It’s just demoralizing.”

  “But effective. I have you here, face down in my lap, talking to me about things you’d rather not. That’s not demoralizing, that’s progress. This relationship is a give and take. I hate to say this, sweets, but you’ve been doing a lot of taking.”